Tainted Recollections
by oiseaus
Summary: The ghost of Kemal Pamuk comes back to haunt Mary on her wedding night.


**Tainted Recollections**

Mary looked at her reflection in the mirror. She noted with a twinge of irony how virginal she looked, a slightly opaque nightgown with sleeves that fell just over her shoulders. Her hair was down and loosely braided like always. She gathered it to the left side of her neck and sighed. The face looking back at her seemed suddenly infantile, frightened and embarrassed already. But inside of her, inside the very real and very ruined body she knew that the image of the young girl in the glass was deceiving. She had done things…let him do things to her…

She didn't know how much experience Matthew had in the bedroom (she hoped none, the image of him with another woman suddenly painful to her). Whatever the case, he must have some idea of what had happened that night many years ago with the Turkish ambassador.

Had he seen her in his head with the Turk? Did he already think of her as tainted and stained by another man? Or, worst of all, would being with Matthew be anything like that night years ago with Kemal Pamuk?

Mary sat down at her vanity and looked down, fiddling with one of the drawer pulls, twisting her fingers around the white-painted wood. She picked up a bottle of rosewater and began to dab some on her neck and behind her ears. Anna put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, milady?" she asked quietly.

Mary nodded. There was an unspoken agreement between them in the silence that followed. Anna knew Mary was thinking about her memory of the Turkish gentleman, but didn't question her any further.

"It's alright to be nervous." Anna said, squeezing Mary's shoulder gently before curtsying and dimming the lights, leaving Mary to a pensive silence in front of her vanity. Mary rested her cheek in the palm of her hand and continued to play with the polished knob as the door closed behind Anna.

_"You can still be a virgin for your husband."_

How naïve she had been! She hadn't been completely oblivious of the goings on between men and women behind closed bedroom doors. She was vaguely aware of what he was going to do to her. She had been nineteen, for God's sake! She hadn't been a child. And now she smacked herself mentally, thinking how foolish she had been to never consider the possibility of a child coming from their short union. She bit her lip.

_"No, please."_ She had whimpered as he had spread her knees apart and rested her weight in between her. Her soft words were stifled by his hot kisses, and, in the impossible and irreversible situation she found herself in, she could see nothing wrong with the pleasure derived from having their mouths so delightfully pressed together.

As his hands became more insistent he had moved his tongue between her teeth. This had been a slightly unwelcome intrusion, and Mary had squirmed underneath him.

_"It's alright, my darling."_ He had whispered in her ear, moving his kisses to her neck again, causing her eyes to flutter and her hands to run through his dark hair.

Mary suddenly felt very hot and she stood up from her table, wishing Matthew would not come too quickly. She needed time. She ran a hand over her forehead, tormented by the thought of going through it all over again.

_"Come on, darling Mary._" He had moaned, pulling at the hem of her gown, which was already above her knees. Her hand had met his and tried to push it down, her body rigid with fear and embarrassment. It was going too far.

She shook her head weakly and battled with his strong hand on the nightgown. His fingers brushed over the sensitive flesh of her breast and she stifled a moan, relinquishing for only a moment her hold on the soft cotton. Before she could do anything to prevent it, he was beginning to put himself inside her.

Mary winced as she remembered that moment. An acute pain that seemed to immobilize her, and then the successive and almost unbearable pain as he moved so quickly inside her. The minutes of blissful kissing had morphed into something so…wrong.

She had felt dirty and disgusting underneath him, hearing him grunt and groan. She cried out, laying her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him. The next few minutes seemed to drag on forever until finally something seemed to happen, something which caused Mr. Pamuk to groan in pleasure, then cry out in…in pain.

Mary could almost feel the weight of him on her again. The weight of a dead man. She had lay there for what seemed an eternity, waiting for him to move, for him to get himself out of her and release her from his grip. But more time passed and…nothing.

Mary remembered the blur of events that had followed-finally getting him off her, shedding her gown that was stained with evidence of her unimaginable mistake, wiping terrified tears away with the back of her hand and running through the house on tiptoe, her heart beating like a hummingbird's until she found Anna's room.

* * *

There was a knock on the door that physically caused Mary to flinch. She put a hand to her check and rubbed it there gently, as if trying to soothe herself.

"Come in." she said in a whisper, then coughed and repeated herself again, this time with more volume and certainty.

She turned away as the doorknob turned and her husband entered, preparing her expression and turning to face him, a small smile on her lips.

"Hello." Matthew said with an amused smile. She looked so utterly petrified, her eyes wide and her lips trembling ever so slightly at the upturned corners.

Mary only nodded. She couldn't find the proper words, and feared that speaking would betray her tortured state to him.

Matthew reached out for her hand and she took his willingly, this much she could do. He pulled her closer to him and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. She rested her hands on his smooth chest, feeling his skin only separated from her by a thin layer of fabric. A chill ran through her.

Matthew tipped up her chin and found her lips, kissing them softly. He broke apart to look her in the eyes. They had always spoke volumes to him. Her eyes were like a deep brown foreign language, one that Matthew was still working to master. She doubted he ever would be fluent in the language of her eyes.

Fear. Fear was the primary color Matthew saw within those deep dark eyes. He rubbed his hand over her forearm.

"I don't want you to worry, Mary." He said with so much tenderness that Mary's knees suddenly felt weak. She visibly relaxed and followed him to her bed, _their bed_, sitting timidly and awkwardly beside him. She despised showing weakness, but there was nothing to disguise what she felt at this moment.

_Just get it over with_, she begged silently.

As Matthew found her lips again she leaned into him, remembering the goosebump-raising effect of their previously shared kisses. Indeed, like before a small firey feeling crept up from her core as he deepened the kiss, cupping her face between his large hands. Unconsciously they sunk lower into the bed and Matthew shyly skimmed his tongue along her teeth, causing a mixture of desire and fear to course through Mary's veins. _He is my husband_, Mary reminded herself. _Everything is permitted_.

She opened her mouth to his and whimpered into his mouth as their tongues connected and he rested more of his weight against her. Her body was crying out for his touch, and to touch him, and she did. He sighed as her long-fingered hands raked through his hair and along his shoulder blades, finally resting on his biceps. Matthew broke their kiss for a moment and shed his nightshirt noticing how Mary reached out for him again as if by instinct. He eagerly captured her lips with his again and began to peruse her body. He had dreamt of this moment, when his hands could finally touch her everywhere. He brushed hair away from her chest to run his fingers along Mary's delicate clavicle, bending down to kiss her there. He felt with delight the curve of her waist and hips, his hand drifting uncertainly across the swell of her breasts through her nightgown.

She stiffened noticeably at this touch and Matthew smiled to himself, pleased that his touch elicited a reaction from her. His other hand swept over her stomach and down a long leg to brush the fabric of her nightgown, drifting it up over her knees and thighs until she squirmed and pushed back against him.

Matthew immediately stopped and looked down at her with concern, his breath slightly labored.

"Mary?" he asked with worry.

She smiled and seemed to recover. "No, it's nothing."

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, brushing stray hair away from her pale neck.

She shook her head, "No, of course not, darling."

He hesitated a second then pushed her gown up very slowly, carefully watching her face for any sign of distress. When her breath hitched as he pushed the fabric up over her ribs he slowed again and dipped down to kiss her pink lips. This seemed to make her less nervous, and soon her whole lovely body was spread gloriously out beneath him. He shed his trousers and stared down at her, taking in the breathless beauty of her feminine form.

Mary was again filled with anxiety as she was awarded an uncompromised view of his person. He was beautiful, strong and masculine. Her eyes widened as she saw him fully, noticing that he was much well…bigger than Mr. Pamuk had been (at least from the fleeting glimpse she'd had of him). Mary was uncomfortable with him staring at her so intently, she felt as if the whole world could see her. She gently pulled the soft sheets around them.

Matthew leaned down and kissed the creamy flesh of her breasts, Mary gasping at the wonderful sensation. He slowly and gently eased her legs apart to accommodate him and felt her body tense again. He drew one of her hardened rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over the tip. She let out an unrestrained moan that caused a shot of desire to go straight to Matthew's groin. He moved to her second breast and provoked the same reaction, his desire becoming almost painful. He had to.

He waited until she opened her eyes sleepily, then moved his hand down to position himself. Mary's eyes bore into his and she eventually nodded. He pushed himself slowly inside her, moaning at the long-coveted contact with her.

Matthew saw with horror the expression of pain on his wife's face and realized that she was very small. She was biting her lip, her face turned away from him, her eyes closed. He reminded himself that this was not the first time she had been with a man. He presumed that she had already experiences the pain of that initial time and rested a moment. She was so small around him. He feared that each moment would cause her pain.

"Mary." He whispered huskily.

She opened her eyes and turned to him, her heart wrenching at his expression.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong, darling?"

He sighed in defeat. "Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head and rose up slightly to kiss him. "It only hurts at first." She whispered. "I'm perfectly alright."

Matthew looked down and pulled himself out of her, easing back into her at a slightly different angle and watching as one of her eyebrows arched in surprise. She nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on him. He kissed her quickly and then began to move inside her.

Mary's entire body felt like it was an unraveling ball of yarn. This was a completely different feeling, so deliciously…right. He moved deeply into her, causing her to arch her chest up to him. She realized that the night with Pamuk had been nothing but…sex. With Matthew she experienced the phenomenon of making love.

Mary began to fully relax into him and Matthew sensed that her pain was now minimal. She was looking up at him with surprise, moaning a soft series of sounds as he moved in and out of her. He felt his release building up within him and pulled her close to him, catching her more insistent moans with his mouth as he thrust more forcefully into her.

An all-consuming pleasure was wreaking havoc on Mary's entire person, her mind in a delirium between consciousness and pure bliss. He felt wonderful inside her, and she could no longer control her vocalizations. As he kissed her again her moans and gasps became more frequent and higher in volume.

Suddenly she felt him swell inside her and she threw her arms back in abandon as ecstasy crashed in successive waves through her. She heard herself whimper his name and then, shortly after, he gasped hers and caused another shock of pleasure to hit her full force. She felt him stop moving and moan hoarsely as he released himself inside her.

They remained there for a moment, breathing heavily and reveling in the knowledge of intimacy they now shared. Mary wanted him to fill her again. She wanted him again and again and again. She exhaled and it was as if that one satisfied breath released the ghost of Pamuk. The breath travelled far away and under their door and Mary knew, without a shade of a doubt, that what Mr. Pamuk had done to her was wrong, and what she and Matthew had just done together was so perfectly right.

The night from years ago having been fully set aside, Mary snuggled closer to Matthew whose blue eyes were shut in peaceful sleep, nestling her head on his safe shoulder.

"I love you, you know." She whispered, kissing his cheek.

He smiled sleepily and drew her closer. "And I love you, my darling."

* * *

_Reviews would be lovely. _


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